


Something Funny With Dick

by Path



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/pseuds/Path
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>>Author: Panic.<br/>You've written nothing but Spades Slick and Problem Sleuth being miserably out of character for weeks. Are you getting predictable? What can you do to break out of this rut?<br/>>Write something funny with Dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Funny With Dick

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write enough Ace Dick. I find him tricky because my usual way of writing is so descriptive and he does not put up with that bullshit.

>Author: Panic.  
You've written nothing but Spades Slick and Problem Sleuth acting out-of-character for the last week. What are you doing with your life? You fear a melt-down. Maybe it's just some comedy you need. Yeah, comedy.

>Write something funny with Slick and Sleuth.  
You attempt a cute piece about Problem Sleuth blowing the handle off his door for the umpteenth time. By halfway through, Problem Sleuth has a concussion and Spades Slick is supporting him so he doesn't pass out on the way home. Shit.

>Wrack brains.  
You can do this. You know you can do this. How does Spike do it? She makes it look so easy. She makes fics about suicide funny. It is a baffling mystery. Desperate, you reread a few of your old fics, which didn't suffer the burden of length as your new ones do. Oh, you think. OH. You gape in wonder at the key to comedy, which has been sitting right there in the middle of your ill-abused source material all along.

>Try not to screw it up this time.  
You won't. The key to comedy is immune to your efforts to make him vulnerably miserable, mostly because he could never imagine doing something so unbelievably stupid.

>Be the key to comedy.

Your name is Ace Dick, and you can't imagine a lot of things. In particular, you can't imagine what possessed your brick-headed leader to start up these meetings in the first place. Thinly-veiled excuse to pry into your cases and delay poker night, you suspect. You're the Poker King. He's right to fear you.

This is the second- most awkward meeting you've ever attended, next to the time Pickle Inspector thought it was some sort of movie night and brought his date with him. At least it was the broad that time. Knowing Pickle Inspector is basically a lesson in awkward meetings, is what you're saying.

"Knowing PI is basically a lesson in awkward meetings," you say, "but this one is downright special."

Your deadbeat leader has the grace to look sheepish for a total of about three seconds before he decides to bluster his way through this one. Good luck to him, you think. He started this whole damn mess.

Things were running, well, not just fine exactly, but about as good as they ever get, for awhile after you guys took down the big kahuna himself, Mobster Kingpin. He wasn't breathing down your collar for bribes (or rent) anymore, which was good because Mobster Kingpin was not the kind of guy you wanted leaning in real close. In his absence, your team had their hands full dealing with the rash of petty crime that sprung up from his uncontrolled goons. That was the good life. You can't imagine anything better.

And then it sort of felt like the city wasn't the same anymore. (It's the best analogy you can come up with.) And you know why. It was the Midnight Crew. They strolled in in their black suits and stupid card themes and suddenly they're rolling in dough and you guys are out to dry. The police department wants nothing to do with them, which sucks because they commit most of the crimes in this city nowadays.

So things've been tight. In the absence of a case, you took to following random people. Law of averages. Follow ten people, one'll commit a crime, and you'll be there to catch it. Basic business sense. One boring Sunday, you followed Problem Sleuth, who was actually way less perceptive than you'd have thought. He goes on about being this ultra-aware machine in combat, but then he doesn't notice you walking ten feet behind him. Your leader is a tool.

You followed him to one of the Midnight Crew's places, big swanky lounge, which was odd because you really didn't think he was working on anything, let alone anything that involved him. You hung out in a nearby alley to wait while he went in. Shaking down the Midnight Crew alone; he might actually need backup and was just too brainless to bring it.

Then a half-hour later he and Spades Slick left by the back door, five feet away from where you were waiting. They didn't walk out so much as fall, and Sleuth was the one with his back to the wall when they figured it out. Spades Slick had a knife- of course he had a knife, he's Spades Slick- and you had your pistol drawn and aimed when shit really hits the fan. Spades Slick had PS by the collar, and a knife in one hand, and what did he do but wind up and kiss your leader. And your leader looked damn into it.

You stood there and tried to work this out while they screwed around for a couple minutes before disentangling, pulling their clothes into something that was sort of like the way they're supposed to be worn, and heading out. Spades Slick had a grin on his face that showed off all his nasty teeth, and Problem Sleuth looked flushed and happy.

You thought you were gonna be sick.

And you just called him on it.

"Uh," he says. "Well. You see..." Then he seems to warm up to it and delivers a long and well-worded explanation that boils down to Shut It, Dick, And Stop Trying To Find Out My Dirty Laundry. The two of you begin a concerted and aggressive fight in which you threaten his leadership through your excellent points.

"-and let go of my collar, Ace, or I'll sock you-"

"Why not? I hear that's the way you like it. Worried you won't be able to-"

"I'm fairly confident I can resist your sterling charms, Dick-"

"Erm," says Pickle Inspector, the first thing he's said since he said "Present" during roll call. Sort of surprised, the two of you look over.

He is looking at his hands and his face is bright red. "I might," he says haltingly, "have also. Um. Been seeing one of the, er. The. The Midnight Crew."

You and Problem Sleuth gape simultaneously.

"So it's not- it won't interfere," he fumbles. "It's outside case work, I mean. It's not, um, you know. Involved."

"Sounds pretty involved to me," you growl, more at Problem Sleuth than Pickle Inspector. It's hard to be mad at Pickle Inspector. There's not much there to be mad at.

"Sounds like shut the fuck up, Dick," returns Problem Sleuth, giving you a punch in the arm you barely feel. You give him a matching one back and send him reeling.

So both of your teammates are screwing around with the Midnight Crew. You're not sure how you feel about that. You're considering it when Problem Sleuth comes back in with his transparent terrible roundhouse and you catch his fist in one hand and pull him down to the floor. Thus follows a fight in which, as usual, Problem Sleuth is severely out-classed. It hasn't happened for awhile, but that doesn't mean you two haven't thrown down before. Pickle Inspector gets behind a chair and watches. Last time he interfered he was laid up for a week.

By the time you finish, sitting on Problem Sleuth's chest and lighting a cigar, you've pretty much come to terms with it. After all, Sleuth's dumb enough to keep trying to take you in a fight. Clearly he's dumb enough to mess around with the Midnight Crew. And Pickle Inspector isn't exactly known for his well-thought out life and decisions. You get off Sleuth and give him a hand up.

"Okay," you say. "Don't go and get yourself killed."

Problem Sleuth seems to actually just be more relieved than anything (maybe it's being able to breathe again), and he shakes your hand. Lessons learned: don't go sneaking around behind your back, and don't try to take you in a fight.

On a whim, PS declares the meeting adjourned and poker night commenced. Later, though, when you lay down a magical hand of _two pair_ , he suggests that he thinks Hearts Boxcars is still single, so maybe he hasn't learned that much after all. To be fair, you think he never will, but you'll keep trying. It's not easy being this smart, accepting, and benevolent, but you'll get by.

It's only that night, driving home, that you realize Pickle Inspector remained so quiet for the rest of the night that you practically forgot he was there. Surely he didn't want to talk about his feelings. You can't imagine partaking in one of those newfangled feelingsjams.

But then, you can't imagine a lot of things.


End file.
